


you're with stupid now

by girljustdied



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-08 03:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17378606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girljustdied/pseuds/girljustdied
Summary: between them she figures she's got one whole boyfriend.





	you're with stupid now

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was "between them she figures she's got one whole boyfriend."

“Love you,” she says carelessly one night, gives him a firm peck on the mouth as a goodbye. Kissing Ian’s no big fucking deal. It’s sorta like kissing one of her brothers, maybe, if she’d ever even touch one of them with a ten-foot pole.

“Love you,” he tells her, no bullshit. It’s not a secret language, a code, her geometry homework—it’s just Ian, face open and fond. And her. Ian and her.

“Jesus, you’re smothering me,” she tosses over her shoulder.

They’re playing now: “Baby, don’t be that way!”

“Don’t call me!” her voice echoes and cracks in the night.

Her cell buzzes in her jeans barely a minute later, and they shoot the shit Mandy’s whole walk home, up the stairs, and right into her bed.

“What the fuck do you assholes still have to talk about?” Mickey hollers through the paper-thin walls.

 _Seriously, what?_ Lip mouths from underneath her.

-

Mandy’s favorite place to sleep is Ian’s bed. It smells like him. Doesn’t matter if he’s there with her, not really, not much. But when she’s high and her head won’t stop it’s good to have a warm body handy.

“My hands are cold,” she mutters into the crook of his neck.

Ian grunts, and drags her hands up under the front of his t-shirt. Warm.

First time they have sex—first time Mandy and Lip have sex—it’s on that bed. They didn’t stay in it long enough for the sun to set and the Gallagher house to get too cold like it always seems to. But once she’d shivered in the rank night air behind the 7-11 on Cedar Street and Lip had just asked her why she wasn’t wearing a jacket.

“S’fuckin’ February, ever heard of the winter solstice, Jesus.”

Does that thing where he sort of laughs into his cigarette. Mandy wonders if he’d give his coat to Karen or whatever if that cunt was still around, but it’s a pretty useless thought, and Mandy hates those.

Ian loves Lip, so Mandy loves Lip.

No. Lip once got the shit beat out of him while taking the blame for Ian keying the car of this dickbag who kept staring at her tits when they ran laps in gym, so Mandy loves Lip.

Still, it is goddamn fucking freezing outside.

-

“You ever think about me? You know,” she can’t quite get the words out.

“Of course I think about you,” Ian takes the question in stride, doesn’t even quit shooting shit on the PS3 Mickey stole from Frank O’Malley.

“No, I mean when you, you know,” she reaches under his hands on the controller and flicks his dick for emphasis, “whack off or whatever.”

He doesn’t answer for like fifty million years. Doesn’t even answer when he answers, “C’mon, Mandy, you know that I'm—”

“I think about you. Sometimes.”

“Well,” he says, not really joking, “I am your boyfriend.”

This is how she ends up watching Ian jerk off with his eyes screwed shut tight and her hand down her panties.

Not fuckin’ worth it. Ian can barely even look at her the next day and they keep ending up just listening to the other breathe over the phone line for weeks after.

-

First thing she does when she figures out what’s going on with Ian and Mickey is find Lip.

“I want to tell him we’re fucking right fucking now,” the heat in her chest not enough the stop the churning in her gut, that little voice whispering that Ian wouldn’t even care—why the fuck should he? Should anyone?

Should be the perfect situation, really.

“Guess you finally found out Mickey’s a pushy bottom, huh?”

So she goes down on Lip until even a smartass like him is at a loss for words that number more than one syllable. He looks at her like maybe he owes her something after, all tugging her tights down and actually bothering to try and make her come while he tries to get hard enough again to fuck and it’s amazing it’s fine it’s fucking perfect—

“I love you,” she murmurs, sort of spur of the moment, his sweaty arm sticking to her belly when he reaches across her to grab his pants.

He’s already lighting a cigarette, “Thanks.”

“Don’t tell Ian.”

Even if Ian’s not really her boyfriend.

Stupid, useless thought. Of course he is.


End file.
